We say that Shore’s wife hath a pretty foot,
[♦] A cherry lip, a bonny eye, a passing pleasing tongue;
[95] And that the queen’s kindred are made gentle-folks:
How say you, sir? can you deny all this?
[♦] Brak. With this, my lord, myself have nought to do.
[♦] Glou. Naught to do with Mistress Shore! I tell thee, fellow,
He that doth naught with her, excepting one,
[100] Were best he do it secretly, alone.
Brak. What one, my lord?
[♦] Glou. Her husband, knave: wouldst thou betray me?